Two Worlds
by aloette
Summary: What if the Host Club was a boy band instead? And what if Haruhi was their reluctant manager?
1. Prologue

I just had to get this out. It's been sitting around for years, well, okay, months. But still. I haven't abandoned any of my other projects. Let's just say that they are currently in a state of..._hiatus_.

And doesn't the idea of the Host Club as a boy band seem so...awesome? It was just begging to be written!

* * *

Anyone who saw the vast mansion that was located on the outskirts of Tokyo would have assumed that its occupants were peaceful, nature-loving people.

Rich, but that was a given considering the area it was is.

The front gate was surrounded with green foliage kept well with a squadron of gardeners, as well as a beautifully kept garden and fountain.

No one would have thought that the truth could not be more different.

--

Today was a normal day, just like any other tranquil August day until…

"YOU DEVILS!"

Okay, maybe it wasn't so tranquil anymore.

Upon closer inspection of the mansion, any innocent bystander would have noticed Mr. Yamada driving at a dangerous ninety miles per hour as he sped past the watchmen at the guardhouse.

He was driving very fast for many reasons, which included a) he had just been poisoned (actually, it was just very bad cooking), b) he was trying to get away from the band of which he was no longer a manager, and c) said band which was simply _abusive_.

Of course, we should sympathize with Mr. Yamada, but as that was his first and only appearance in this story, we don't really care.

And on to the real story.

The occupants of the mansion were six boys, which made up the famous boy band, H6. Each was breathtakingly handsome in their own way, which was the main part of the reason for their success.

They had been discovered by a prominent recording company upon entering high school in one of those talent search contests. All six had been part of a club, called the Host Club, in which they entertained young ladies with tea and cakes and talk. Hence the band name. H stood for host, and six was the number of members.

This company president, who shall be called Mr. Tanaka for privacy purposes, immediately saw the potential of which these six boys carried, and a deal was made.

After only two years together, many of their singles had made it big on the charts. CDs sold in the millions. Concerts sold out six months prior to the actual date and were rumored to cost a fortune. Fanfare also helped a lot, with merchandise and an ever growing fan club.

The only problem was their manager. Yes, the manager. Over past two years, the boys had gone through dozens and dozens of managers. For some reason, no manager was able to last very long. The longest had stuck around for six months amazingly before being committed to a mental institution.

The shortest was around five hours.

The reason for this had yet to be discovered by Mr. Tanaka, who was getting at his wits' end. The band was so successful, so why the hell couldn't they get a manager to stick around?

His frustration vented out on his employees at random notices. The employees, for their part, had learned to tread the situation carefully, lest they get fired for no apparent reason.

Fujioka, however, had apparently not learnt the art of being subtle. Either that, or he didn't get the memo.

The man was loud in his opinions, brazen in his actions. It was a wonder that he had yet to be fired, but maybe it was this quality of his that Mr. Tanaka liked.

Maybe that was why Fujioka had become Mr. Tanaka's personal assistant.

The world may never know.

Mr. Yamada's latest resignation was causing Mr. Tanaka to grow unnecessary gray hairs. A concert was scheduled in two weeks, but without a manager, it could be become hectic. That happened once six months ago, and Mr. Tanaka did _not_ want to relive that memory again. He shuddered at the mere thought of it.

In addition, the concert had already been pushed back two months, and Mr. Tanaka had no intention of pushing the date back again. He could imagine the protests from intense fan girls outside his office building, and _that_ brought another bad memory to his mind.

But anyway.

As usual, Fujioka was not afraid to ask his boss for details, and it was with a shot of whiskey in his hand that Mr. Tanaka detailed the latest news.

He sipped the liquor. "No sane man will do that job now," he said. "If this goes on, I might lose the boys as a label."

"Man?" Fujioka asked, helping himself to some whiskey. "Have you ever sent a woman?"

"Woman?" Mr. Tanaka spat. "No woman would be able to last an hour. And to put a woman in a house with six boys only spells disaster."

Fujioka smiled. "Why, I'm sure no woman minds being in a house with six boys. As long as she knows how to cook and to take care of chaos, it should be fine.

"Like I know that my daughter would be _perfect_ for something like that. She always finds some way to solve problems. Like when she applied for high school? She did it all by herself. Wouldn't even let me help her…" He continued to rant about Haruhi, oblivious to Mr. Tanaka's expression.

As of this moment, Mr. Tanaka's whiskey had been forgotten, his mind focused on another matter. Times had come to bring such desperate actions, he knew, and that was why he was suddenly willing to take to go to the extreme.

Fujioka's daughter, in that ten seconds, had become his favorite person.

Besides, he thought, if it didn't work out, he could just fire Fujioka, who currently showed no signs of stopping.

Finally, he said, "Fujioka."

The man stopped and jerked his head up in surprise. "Yes?"

"How would your daughter," Mr. Tanaka carefully worded, "like to become the manager for H6?"

Fujioka opened his mouth and gapped. "Ah…o-of course!" he exclaimed. "What a wonderful opportunity for Haruhi! She'll be able to make new friends, too! You know, she concentrates so much on her studies that I worry about her…"

"Excellent." Mr. Tanaka stood up, the decision having been reached in less than five minutes. "She can start tomorrow then. I'll have the contract written up for you within the hour, and as you are her legal guardian, you can sign it for her."

"Of course! That would be so great! I'm sure Haruhi would be so happy!"

Mr. Tanaka sighed a breath of relief. Good.

An experiment was about to go underway. He had his doubts as for how long Fujioka's daughter would last, but surely, it didn't really matter as long it prolonged matters for a few days

It would give him some more time to bribe, er, find a new (real) manager.

--

"Oh look," Kaoru said, checking his e-mail, "That old man's quick. Says the new manager's coming tomorrow."

"So soon?" Hikaru replied, looking over. "Man, and just when we got rid of one, too."

"Doesn't matter," Kaoru turned his head and grinned, "we'll be sure to give the new manager a very _warm welcome_, won't we?"

"But of course."

And then the two twins smiled.

* * *

I'm not sure what direction this story will take, but I think I will only continue if people are interested. I'm sorry, but my time is limited, and my imagination is sporadic. Reviews would be appreciated.


	2. Meet the Manager

This has taken me a long time, yes, I know. I've been inactive for a few months now, and I apologize for that. My other stories are officially in a state of hiatus, and this story will be sporadically updated once...every other moon.

Thank you for reading!

* * *

An eighteenth century English bishop called Joseph Butler once said that "hasty and sudden anger" was known as the first form of anger, and it could be connected to the impulse for self-preservation.

Haruhi, however, had a counterargument.

What if the anger came simply because you had a father who made decisions all by himself?

And what if the anger came because you had been peacefully studying when he came barging in, and asked, if you'd ever wanted to be a manager, er, no, manageress?

To Haruhi, the answer was no, but to her father, apparently, the answer was yes, yes, of course, _of course_!

With a sad shake of the head, Haruhi wondered why she even listened to him. And packed one bag, and boarded the train.

Standing now in front of the largest mansion she'd ever seen, looking, perpetually and unconditionally, lost.

For a moment, she considered going back home on that same train. There was, after all, a meat sale at the market today, and though she had reminded her father about it, she somehow doubted that he would actually go.

She remembered his face. A pitiful and desperate face. He was begging with her, all shame having been lost in the matter of seconds.

He told her that if she didn't do it, he would get fired, and he would have no job; what would he be then, an okama?

Haruhi, though disgruntled about the idea of becoming a manageress since she had no idea what it was, had to agree. There was a long sigh, a deep breath, and here she was.

--

Tamaki opened the door to Kyouya's room with a loud bang and slam. Kyouya, who had been tuning a bass for their upcoming concert, cringed at the noise.

"Do you need something?" He set the instrument aside. It'd be best for the bass to not get destroyed in the process of their conversation.

Tamaki, obviously not in need of something, wordlessly flung his hand through his hair. He smiled. "Manager's here."

"And?"

"It would be rude of us to not give him a proper greeting!" He turned his back to Kyouya to poke at buttons on the intercom situated on the wall, equipped with a screen. "Here!" Pointing, Tamaki confirmed the conjured image of a poorly dressed young man, standing helplessly at the gates of the mansion.

"A rather pitiful looking man, isn't he?" Kyouya commented with a adjusting of his glasses. "If you insist on giving him a welcoming, you can go do it yourself."

"But!" Tamaki's lips pouted in a downward turn. "Kyouya! Haven't you ever thought about the newcomer's feelings? Have you ever considered the fact that because we didn't greet the last manager with fireworks, he left so prematurely?"

His face now hovered dangerously close over Kyouya's. He pulled back, a grimace graced his features. "Perhaps," Kyouya noted, "it was because of the 'welcome cake' given to him, courtesy of the Hitachiin twins."

"The cake was a present!" Tamaki tried. "Hunny-senpai gave them the recipe!"

"The twins," Kyouya sighed, " who decided to give it a twist. Human beings were never meant to consume…" He did not bother to finish.

Tamaki placed his hands on his hips. "So, let us go, Kyouya! This plebian-looking new manager of ours shall be commenced into our legacy with a grand reception."

Grudgingly, Kyouya stood up. "This is going on _your_ tab," he merely said.

--

Through the intercom, Tamaki made the announcement: "Everyone! Obey your King's humble request and gather together at the front door!"

Replies came slowly, one by one.

"Is it the manager, Tama-chan?"

"Yes!"

Two snickers came over the speakers. "Wait a sec, give us a few more minutes…"

Tamaki's voice rang out. "Twins! Halt this excruciating madness! You will not poison our new manager!"

"Aw, but Milord–"

"–we are merely creating a gift!"

"Exactly!"

"I want nothing of this nefarious sort!"

This was followed by simultaneous snorts. "Oops," said Kaoru.

"Five minutes," Hikaru added. "We'll be there!"

The intercom was then cut off, and the twins found themselves looking at a blank screen. Tamaki, evidently, had gone off to fetch the new manager by himself.

--

Haruhi pressed the doorbell once again. Really, she thought, did they not have the decency to answer the doorbell? On the fifteenth ring?

Obviously, this meant that she was not needed, a good sign. She could still hightail it out of here. The prospect of going to a meat sale was becoming especially tempting.

"Dear Manager!"

A loud tenor voice struck her eardrums. She tensed. Turned.

He was a good foot taller than her, and he peered down with blonde hair and violet eyes. Had she been a normal girl, she might have melted right there and then, but since she wasn't, she only said, "Hello."

"Hello," the boy responded, though he looked sorely disappointed for some reason. "Suou Tamaki, at your service, dear Manager." He held out his hand to shake.

Dear Manager? she thought. Oh yeah. That was her.

"Er, right," she said, taking his offered hand, "Fujioka Haruhi, the new…manager I suppose."

"Exactly, exactly! How I welcome you, plebian, to our world of luxury and extravagance!" The blonde named Tamaki enthusiastically shook her hand, and Haruhi felt herself bobbing up and down.

Plebian? Was he talking about her?

"Let me lead you inside!" he said next, and this time, he dragged her in the gates, through the gardens, and they journeyed the magnificent courtyard. She watched the gates slowly close behind her, and wondered if this had any symbolic meaning to it, namely, _Welcome to Hell_.

--

"Lots of wonderful privileges, really," he was saying, "as part of our being a band. And also–"

Huge house, Haruhi thought, not listening much to the blonde's words. An emergence of a large mansion was already starting to appear on the horizen. She remained tuned out, keeping her attention on the quaint fountain overhead with the matching–

"LOOK OUT!"

Haruhi looked up.

There was a loud splash, thump, and scream (Tamaki's).

Tamaki stiffened.

"Dear, dear Fujioka," he cried, "are you alright?"

Cold and drenched in a sort of liquid, Haruhi replied, "Technically speaking, yes."

He was hovering around her, not sure which way to turn. Mumbling about this and that, he failed to realize that they had reached the front door.

They had walked a long way, Haruhi thought.

"Mother, Mother, must tell Mother…" he was sputtering out.

"I'm right here," came up ahead. Tamaki glanced up. "Mother!"

"If I must be called so," Kyouya sighed. He looked at a dripping wet Haruhi. "Our new manager, I suppose? Be thankful – I had to convince the twins to, shall we say, lessen that 'welcome gift' to a more moderate degree."

Haruhi was thoroughly confused. "Pardon?"

Kyouya had already turned back inside. A petite blonde of energy took his place.

"Haru-chan, Haru-chan!" he cried. "Welcome! Oh – here's a towel! Hika-chan and Kao-chan can be too enthusiastic sometimes."

"Er, thanks," she said, taking the towel. If this was considered moderate, she was sure that she didn't want to know the extreme. Welcome gift indeed. She wondered if it was possible to turn in her resignation right here, right now.

She noticed that her luggage had already been taken inside. "Hey – where–"

Speaking of which, that tall blonde was also gone. She was the only one standing outside. She shivered, pulling the towel around her neck and heading up the front stairs to the door.

Dear Mother in Heaven.

"Hello?" she called out, knocking on the door anyway though it was halfway open. As she ventured in, another bucket of something fell splat on her head.

She twitched. There should have been something in her job requirement that said, 'Bring a helmet.'

She wiped at her head again, knowing only that she didn't want to see what substance had landed. The prospect of taking a shower seemed very attractive right now.

"Hello?"

No answer.

It was a very spacious house. She found herself greeted with mazes of hallways and antique furniture, each of which looked more costly than her apartment.

Down ahead, in what was called the main living room, the others had already gathered.

"We _did_ what you wanted us too," the twins chorused. "Or according to Kyouya, at least."

Tamaki seethed. "That's not the _point_," he was whining. "Why torture our managers the moment they set foot on our residence? It's hardly the action of any gentleman, so I daresay you two can call yourselves one."

They shrugged in tandem. "Whatever."

"Anyhow," said Hikaru, "this is a nobody."

"Yeah!" Kaoru added. "I mean, look at his bag."

They all looked at the same time. "It's pitiful," Hikaru said.

"Yes, I can hardly disagree with tha–" Tamaki heard himself saying. "That's not the point! If we opened it, I'm sure it will be infinitely large like the cosmos. It could fit a wardrobe."

"That puny thing?"

"Let's open it!" Hunny suggested cheerfully.

Kaoru nodded. "He's gonna find us eventually. Better do it now."

"Judging by the sound of footsteps," Kyouya noted, "I would estimate his arrival in less than five minutes."

"Hurry!" said Hikaru.

"I'm opening it," Kaoru announced, struggling with the zipper. Finally, it succumbed to his pull. Clothes spilled out. Everyone sans Kyouya gapped.

Some of the most girlish clothes you'd ever see now lay unceremoniously on the coffee table. Pink. Sequins. Tank-tops. You name it.

"Uh-oh," Hikaru eloquently put it.

And somewhere, many rooms and bathrooms away, Haruhi thought how particularly annoying it was to have a father who repacked your luggage with dresses and skirts.

How very inconvenient it was.

* * *

Reviews will be loved so very much. All of your words are much appreciated, and it is always very encouraging to read feedback. Thanks to everyone who has read so far!


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